Reading between the Lines

Here is the transcript from the mind of a cynic reading through the personals section of a newspaper:

    wants same for walks in rain, trips to Spain and    riding on planes. Send picture and dating    strategy.

Great. Eliza Doolittle. Literally. I come up with a dating strategy and she does little but ride along. This is not a good sign. She's probably a princess working as a secretary who wants to be rescued and catapulted into the rich, upper class. Rules me out. I'm not going to work my butt off so she can relax in Spain trying to pronounce words differently. What's so romantic about Spain, anyway? She's probably read Hemingway too and I'll be forced to run in front of a bunch of bulls just so she'll think I'm dashing in an old-fashioned way. No thanks. I'll take a new-fashioned Range Rover like they drive around Africa. Those things can't be toppled by a bunch of bulls. And if it's raining, I won't get wet or slip all over the place. Geez.

       SF ISO SM. Dancing. Wine. Night. Sky. Moon.       Romancing. Dine. Write by June.

Great. Poetry. She'll expect me to reciprocate. I just won't be able to say, "Yeah, let's grab a burger tonight." Nope. I'll have to get some watercolors and paint a letter to her. In some ancient...